


Headphones

by zero_paradise



Category: Powerpuff Girls
Genre: F/M, Fic inspired by art
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-20 20:35:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21287789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zero_paradise/pseuds/zero_paradise
Summary: Headphone-less, Butch demands Buttercup share hers.
Relationships: Butch & Buttercup Utonium, Butch/Buttercup Utonium
Comments: 4
Kudos: 54





	Headphones

**Author's Note:**

> A little ficlet to go along with Lamonyo’s headphone picture. They posted a blurb with it, so I tried to keep it along those lines, there is some differences -coughs zipup hoodie oops- lolol Link to the art at the end, and thank you so much for all your art!  
  
  
  


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Headphones_

The smell of firewood hung in the bus, clinging to clothing and hair. Buttercup robbed smoke out of her eyes and sank low in her seat, arms tight over her chest. Not in a thousand years would she admit to being cold, Blossom had told her not to forget a jacket this morning. Blossom asked her she had it when they left the house to meet the rest of their class at PK-Oates High School. Meeting an hour early Buttercup had in fact forgotten her coat, before a single I told you so could pipe out, Buttercup bursted and claimed she didn’t get cold. Most of the day she’d been right. The morning was chilly, the cool bearable. Despite the hour everyone was lively and chatty. For some reason everyone preened at the idea of the museum, ballet, and the night hike with interactive art. Buttercup didn’t have time to be cold: on the move, trying not to sleep during the show, and starting three of the five games of hide and go seek at the hike. That had earned her and ten others detention, they had been spared being sent back to the bus early. The graduating class could spend their last field trip together, knocking paper cups of cocoa together as if it were champagne. They huddled around fire pits, boisterous laughter dying out. Spits of fire lapped at their jokes and burned their energy. The day was over.

Now they all stunk! 

Now she was cold. Wasn’t it the worst when Blossom was right?

The glow of Blossom’s book light illuminated her seat. A secondary light reflected against the window in her booth, a pair of legs kicked out into the aisle, her seat buddy’s head no where to be seen. She didn’t need to guess to know who her sister’s company was. Brick had followed after Blossom as the second to board the bus, he sat and hadn’t moved. At least Blossom couldn’t get up and hound her. She wouldn’t see her legs in the seat, a little ball to keep warm. Sitting with Bubbles was out of the question, her and Boomer had been glued to one another since the bus ride out.

Buttercup smacked her head against the vinyl seat and kept in a groan. The bus was fast falling asleep for their hour ride home in the dark. No offense to the bus driver, Buttercup an eye out the window, looking for trouble. Blossom wouldn’t sleep either and sat in the front most seat for the same reason. Unlike her sister however, Buttercup wasn’t opposed to dulling one of her senses. Music kept her alert, awake, and warm, or so she told herself. 

“Scoot over.”

Buttercup turned up her music, ignoring her company looming and lumbering over her. Downside with super hearing, the music wasn’t actually enough to dull out much. Butch kicked at where her ankles ought to have been, Buttercup grinned at his miss. “Dumb bitch,” she sneered drumming on her shins. 

“Whatever.” Butch dropped at her side, hanging half off the seat, he hip checked her hard and grabbed her ankle the second it kicked out to stabilize herself on the seat in front of her. He’d succeed in stealing her grin for himself and scooted her over for a second time without both feet to anchor her. 

Silence, Buttercup’s weakness. Her kicks and punches came with exuberant shouts. Silence, she huffed, Butch’s only savor. His company brought a thicket of campfire smoke. He smelled like outdoors and a dude. A scent kneaded into a hoodie from days and days of use: his shampoo, cologne, and musk. Buttercup recognized it. She turned her music up another notch.

“Nice.” Butch tugged out the left piece, the plug pulled snapped her attention to him. A screechy guitar whined through the headphone. “Sh,” He put a finger to his lips as if he cared about waking up his classmates. He checked the writing on the side, popped it in accordingly.

“Seriously?” Buttercup moaned, head inching closer to his, easing the tug of the cord by minimizing space between them.

“It’s boring as balls,” He gestured again to the mostly dark seats around them. 

“Yeah? It’s late. Listen to something. Play on your phone.”

“No headphones, come on.”

“Not,” Buttercup yanked the left piece out and popped it back into her ear, “my problem.” 

Butch snagged her mp3 player, “dude Buttercup.”

“Go listen to someone else’s.”

“You actually have taste.” He pointed at the screen, Minus the Bear. While he held it up, she clicked the A’s and put on Ariana Grande. 

“Tasteless.” She reasoned and showed him the screen, thank u, next. That was entirely Bubble’s fault, allegedly. She had loads of pop and dancey things on her mp3 player to appease her sister when they were in the car together. Just for Bubbles. She said it so many times both sisters were beginning to wonder.

Butch stole the earpiece again and touched his chin touched his shoulder, giving slack between them. Buttercup mirrored him with a scowl, she turned her head up with a challenging sneer. How long could he last listening to the infamous breakup song? Bubbles had it on repeat for weeks before Buttercup forced her to change, screaming, yes! Thank you, next! The professor thought it was hilarious. Though it had finally stopped playing, she hadn’t stopped humming in her head. One listen on youtube, had it rolling to the next song, then one after the other. 

Seven rings, Buttercup put it on, let Butch suffer. The songs had sucked Buttercup in after weeks of resistance, how long would Butch last? He bobbed his head, trap beat, of course he’d like that. His fingers tapped on his knee, now he was just mocking her.

NASA.

Without making it to the first chorus, Butch opened his eyes. He stared and she smirked. Here came the complaint! Butch drew in a breath, “N-AH,” The A smothered with Buttercup’s palm, Butch covered her mouth, hushing her laughter. The bus stirred and groaned, shouting for people to shut the fuck up. Blossom harped on their language before the teacher could.

“I’m sorry,” Buttercup whispered and shook her head, “did you just quote Ariana Grande?” Did he sing the song as it played?

“I’m a dangerous woman, Buttercup.” His P popped.

“There goes torturing you with music.” Her lament met a shrug, Butch helped himself to her MP3 player again, he flicked his thumb, scroll after scroll. “Did you download all these?” Album, album after album.

“Legally. Yes.” 

Butch laughed, deep and throaty. Of course she did. He leaned to show her what he was thinking, Florence and the Machine? 

Their shoulders touched. He pressed play before Buttercup could shake her head, they listened to one song and Buttercup picked another. Back and forth, the pair took turns choosing different artists and songs. Buttercup swearing her Beyonce was because of Blossom. 

“You’d be a fucking fool if you didn’t like Queen B,” Their thighs touched now. Butch holding the MP3 player and Buttercup kept her hands awkwardly in her lap. She liked that he didn’t give a fuck. He could like Beyonce, Lady Gaga, or Ari without caring when someone asked in disbelief if he liked that. He would shrug and tell them fuck off. Buttercup swore it off, gave any reason that was not her simply liking something. What was the use? People always made assumptions about her, there was a lot she said she didn’t like, because people thought she shouldn’t. 

Though her left side had warmed with the monster invading her seat, her right closest to the outdoors, remained chilled. Buttercup rubbed her bare arm. Looking back to the screen, Butch’s head rolled up to the ceiling. He looked guilty. Not that he wasn’t, the bastard was always guilty for something, it was a permanent feature. Somewhere above his scowl and under his cheek bones. The yellow lights from the road casted shadows on them as they passed, discoloring the bus. He almost looked red in the cheeks. 

Funny. How tired was she? The vinyl creaked as she peeled away, it stuck to her even if she hadn’t been sweating. Attached by the cord, Butch sat up in conjunction or to be an asshole. His elbow jutted against hers, then her shoulder. She kicked his ankles and he pressed his weight against her, pinning her against the metal wall. Buttercup snickered and hissed, “Up, dick head!” Her yell not nearly effective when whispered. She swatted at him, catching the headphone in her fingers and fist full of fabric. Butch fixed his hair he flatted shimming out of hoodie.

The Ah-ha moment she’d been ready to rub in his face, having both headphones, melted. He stole it back easily. Buttercup gawked letting Butch lay his hoodie over them both, he slipped in an arm and held up the otherside for Buttercup to do the same. The fabric stretched enough for them to sit comfortably, as long as they sat angled towards each other.

Comfortable sitting. Awkward staring. Butch couldn’t decide where to look. Not her eyes, not down low, and staring up was straining. Down was best. “Butch. I know you’re not looking at my tits.” 

“Nope. I was. Totally was.” She punched his arm, their eyes met. Streetlights lied again, Butch’s cheeks were not red. Maybe they were, maybe he was hot. Buttercup was. Her body burned in his hoodie, ever hotter along her thighs where her leg met his. Her fingers flinched when she touched his instead of the MP3 player. Despite the heat and the awkward angle from his jacket, Buttercup didn’t ask him to move. He deserved to be uncomfortable for jacking her headphone. At least turned towards each other, the cord didn’t tug on their ears anymore.

The inside of his jacket smelled less of campfire and more of just Butch. Smoke was still there, a mint smell more potent on the inside of his jacket. 

Butch clicked random, “You like the Gorillaz?” He asked quiet, more mint filled the space between them.

This was the chance to say she used to date the temporary bassist, Ace. Buttercup only nodded and kept that detail to herself. Why did she want to brag about dating a guy? To let him know there were options? They didn’t have to just be enemies or classmates.

“Cool.”

Cool, right, then why did she feel so lame for liking the fact he complimented her? Buttercup tucked her hand in her side of the jacket. A slick, thin rubber twisted around itself. The same rubber coated cord that hung between them. She traced the long and twisted line to the end, a metal L.

Liar. 

Buttercup was game for calling Butch on his shit. She let him know when he was caught without hesitation. She enjoyed his groans, anticipating his comebacks, and being just as much of a shit. This time, she’d settle for knowing he was just as lame and Buttercup let him keep the lie.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

>   
  
  
I’m doing this instead of NaNoWriMo—OOPS. I’ll get to it lol. Writing these small things is helping inspire me to get to my other fic and I love writing things for art. I tend to write a lot with my stuff, so when I write ficlets for other people I feel less pressured to write a bunch? Which I hope just ficlets are okay and that people are enjoying them!
> 
> Please let me know in the comments and by leaving kudos.  
Also be sure to like and follow Lamonyo and you can find the art, here:
> 
> [on instagram](https://www.instagram.com/p/B3sftZXDWme/)
> 
> They’re more active on IG but here is tumblr:
> 
> [on tumblr](https://lamonyo.tumblr.com/post/182365113311/butch-x-buttercup)
> 
> PS- I’m all about the Gorillaz and PPG sharing the same universe. I lost my damn mind when Ace took over for Murdoc while ‘he was in jail.’ That was brilliant!
> 
> Oh I feel I should say, I have a lot of headcanons from my longer fic that…Bleed into my ficlets. One of them being Ace and the Puffs actually being around the same age.
> 
> Posted over on my tumblr as well: (i'll update once I post everything lol)
> 
> [my post on tumblr](https://diedieri.tumblr.com/post/188774937159/ficlet)


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